War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,55

drawl offers a well-needed distraction. He leans up alongside us, back braced against the wall with one long leg stretched out. His suit is the same as mine, albeit better fitted to his trim form. No lightning insignia. No markings. No indication of how deadly a man this newblood is. With him around, I realize Davidson has no need to arrange useful accidents to remove opponents. He only needs Tyton. The chilling thought is somehow a balm. This isn’t a trap, at the very least. It doesn’t need to be.

I slide on my boots, smirking. “I’ll have words with the tailor when we get back.”

Across the room, Tiberias rolls his sleeves, exposing his flamemaker bracelet. Evangeline looks almost bored at his side, her furs tossed to the floor to reveal the full armor covering her from fingertips to toes. She catches my glance and holds my gaze.

I don’t expect her to stick her neck out for anyone but Elane Haven, and yet I feel safer with her around. She’s saved me twice before. And I’m still of value to her. Our agreement still stands.

Tiberias must not win the throne.

The room clears as we prepare, moving from the changing area to the rows and rows of arms at the back of the room. Farley weighs herself down with ammunition, putting a pistol on her other hip and a snub machine gun across her back. I assume she already has her knives tucked away. I don’t take any weapons, but Tyton grabs a belt, pistol, and holster off the rack, shoving them toward me.

“No thanks,” I grumble, begrudging. I don’t like guns or bullets. I don’t trust them. And I don’t need them. I can’t control either one the way I can control my lightning.

“Some raiders are silents,” he replies, his voice a low whipcrack. Just the thought turns my insides. I know the feel of Silent Stone all too well. It isn’t a sensation I would like to bear again, not for any reason.

Without warning, Tyton fastens the gun belt around my waist, his eyes and fingers quick on the buckles. The gun slides into its holster, feeling heavy and unfamiliar at my side. “If you lose your ability,” he adds, “it’s best to have a backup.”

Behind us, the temperature rises, a rippling heat that can only mean one thing. I look up just in time to watch Tiberias shoulder by, keeping his distance, furiously intent on staring at the floor as he goes. Trying to ignore me.

He might as well wear a sign around his neck.

“Careful with those hands, Tyton,” he growls over his shoulder. “She bites.”

Tyton just chuckles darkly. He doesn’t need to respond, and doesn’t attempt to. It only incenses Tiberias further.

For once, I don’t care about the scarlet flush heating my cheeks. I step away from Tyton, who is still laughing.

Tiberias watches me as I catch up to him, his bronze eyes alight with something more than his usual fire. Electric energy pulses through my limbs. I keep it in check, using it to fuel my resolve.

“Don’t be such a possessive ass,” I snap, driving my elbow into his ribs as I stalk by. It’s like hitting a wall. “If you insist on calling yourself a king, you can at least act like one.”

Behind me, he lets loose something between a snarl and a frustrated sigh.

I don’t respond, don’t look back, and don’t stop until I’ve followed the steady current of soldiers outside onto the central plaza where we first arrived hours ago. Black and forest-green transports crowd the stone, the vehicles fanned out evenly. Davidson waits by the lead, Carmadon at his side. They embrace quickly, touching foreheads and kissing, before Carmadon backs away. Neither of them seems bothered by the impending skirmish. This must be a common occurrence—or they’re very good at masking their fear. It could be both.

The palace overlooks the growing number of soldiers, and shadows move on the balconies. Servants and guests alike. I squint, trying to find my family among the silhouettes. Gisa’s hair should stand out, but I spot Dad first. He hunches over a railing, leaning out to watch. When he sees me, he tips his head, but only a little. I want to wave, but it feels silly. And when the transports rev to life, their engines a growl across the pines, I know that calling to them is no use either.

I find Farley at the lead transport, waiting alongside Davidson. She clambers inside, hoisting herself up and